Phoenix Tears
by RomanceNovelist1111
Summary: Harry, raised by Voldemort, was trained to hate, torture, and kill. However, what happens when he was given a Mudblood slave? Will she be able to warm his cold heart? Warning: Violence at the beginning.


**Phoenix Tears**

**I've added a few more scenes. However, I'm not sure if they fit with the rest of the story.  
><strong>

Voldemort was pleased. It was probably his cleverest decision yet. He had planned to kill the boy, but instead, he found his most trustworthy, most powerful, most intelligent servant. He laid his pale hand on the boy's shoulder. Seeing that the boy was about to kneel, he stopped him. "No, stay standing. Take in the world around you. Tell me your thoughts."

The said boy contemplated the battle going on below them – between the Death Eaters and the Aurors. Then slowly, a sadistic smile spread across his face. "It's beautiful, Master," he said, submissive yet the love of violence was clear in his voice. "Soon, the world will be under your reign. My only request is to be able to contribute to that cause. Please, Master, allow me to assist your servants."

Voldemort always loved the pure respect in the boy's voice. It wasn't the voice of a groveling, sniveling, miserable wretch of a Death Eater. It was the voice of someone worthy of power and respect, and yet, the boy obeyed his orders to the letter. "Very well. Go!"

The boy jumped into the air and then landed into the fray. Immediately, he killed ten Aurors in a blink of an eye.

"Harry Potter…" Voldemort chuckled. "He will make the Ministry fall today." He approached his servant after the battle and watched with amusement as Harry seemed to be searching for something. "What is it, my faithful servant?"

"When the Aurors retreated, Master, there was a Mudblood who wasn't able to escape with them because of his broken leg. He's still around here somewhere."

Voldemort smiled. "By all means, find him."

Harry whipped his wand and a pile of stone moved to the side, revealing a trembling Auror. "I found him, Master."

"You may kill him."

Harry grinned and pulled out a silver knife. He approached the man, whose eyes were wide with fear.

"Please, please…have mercy," he begged.

Harry leaned down and grabbed the man's hair, pulling it back to expose his throat. "Oh, my…Mudblood, what a white throat you have. That simply won't do." He chuckled. "Do you have a family?"

"Please…my wife and daughters…my son is barely a year old…"

Harry said coldly, "All the better. I don't need to hear about filthy Mudblood families' plights. I just need to know that they'll suffer." He jammed the knife into the man's throat and pulled his hand away before the blood can touch him. He sighed. "What a pity. It was such a beautiful knife. Now it's stained with the blood of a Mudblood."

Voldemort laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I will provide you a new one. I know how fond you are of that knife."

"At least it was put to a good cause." Harry bowed to Voldemort. "Master, the Wizarding World is yours."

…

_Three years later on Harry's fourteenth birthday…_

Harry's birthday celebration was that evening, not that he bothered too much to pay attention to it. The only reason he was even bothering to keep track was because his master told him that he will be hosting his birthday celebration at his own manor. Harry's manor was given to him by Voldemort, and he lived by himself on the grounds that spanned several acres. It was a quiet lifestyle but that's how he liked it. The manor always had a cold atmosphere, even though it was clean and tastefully arranged.

Harry flicked his wand and the dining table was set. The drawing room was prepared for an audience.

"You have done well, my servant."

Harry immediately turned around and got down on one knee, bowing. "Your wish is my command, Master. I hope you find the arrangements to your liking."

"It is all very good." Voldemort's eyes wandered over the decorations. "And the throne?"

Harry stood up and said, "Please, Master, it is in the drawing the room up front." He showed Voldemort the drawing room. Up front, there was a wooden throne with velvet cushions, silk cloth draping over the back and armrests gracefully. The platform on which the throne sat was covered in a thick red velvet carpet. To complete the look, a purple canopy was set over the throne, the long cloth tied to the sides so that the throne could be seen from all around the room. "Are you pleased, Master?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yes. However, where is your seat?"

"It is enough that I stand by your side, Master."

Voldemort nodded, pleased. "I believe the guests have arrived."

Harry hurried to open the doors. Keeping them open with magic, he returned to his master and knelt down on one knee again. "If you consider me worthy, Master, allow me to escort you to your throne." At Voldemort's consent, he stood up and followed Voldemort to his throne.

Voldemort sat down grandly, laying his wand on the side table, which was put there for that purpose.

Harry knelt down on his hands and knees and kissed Voldemort's robes before standing up, coming to his side. People were slowly filling up the drawing room. As they came in, the Death Eaters knelt down before Voldemort and kissed his robes before standing in a circle around the throne. It was a quiet process.

When the last Death Easter arrived, Voldemort said, "Now, before the feast, as dictated by tradition, present your gifts to my faithful servant."

The Carrows began the line of gift-bearers. "We hope our gift is satisfying," Amycus said oily. He placed a large object in front of Harry and Voldemort and pulled back the silk cloth. It was Pensieve.

Harry nodded and waved them away to call in the next Death Eater. Bellatrix and her husband were next. Although they were presenting the gift to Harry, Bellatrix's eyes never left Voldemort. It was clear she was only trying to please Voldemort by bringing in the best gift. "Our gift is rarity…" she began, her lips twisted in a smile. She waved her wand and what looked like a huge box covered in a cloth appeared in the middle of the room. "I am sure our gift would find favor with you." She pulled off the cloth.

Harry's eyes widened and he stepped forward to take a closer look. It was a unicorn foal, appeared as though it had been taken from its mother's side just after birth. Mares were extremely protective of their offspring, so Bellatrix and her husband must have killed the foal's mother. If one had a heart, he would have said that nothing could look sadder or more frightened than the colt in the cage.

"We hope you enjoy your gift," Bellatrix said, glancing at Harry before she and her husband retreated to make room for the next presenter.

And so it went on like that. Dolohov gave Harry an owl. Avery and Snape both gave Harry several books that would make good additions to his library. Crouch Jr. gave him valuable tapestries that could be hung around the manor. Crabbe gave him precious metals and gems in the form of dinner ware such as a gold chalice with gems embedded in it. Gibbon gave him a large, crystal basin that would refill itself with any basic potion that Harry wanted it to. Goyle presented several more treasures of precious metals and gems. Karkaroff gave him several valuable paintings to decorate the manor with. Nott presented two stone dragon statues that could be placed on either side of the entrance doors of the manor. Rowle, Malfoy, Macnair, and Yaxley all presented more treasures to add to his vault.

Voldemort finally turned to Harry. "You have been a very faithful servant, and as your reward, I will give you two gifts. One…" He pulled out a ring and handed it to Harry.

Harry widened his eyes. He recognized the ring. It was…no, it couldn't be. "Master, is this…?"

"Yes. I trust that you will not lose it?"

Harry nodded and placed the ring on his finger. Immediately, he felt Voldemort's presence in the ring – his Horcrux. He would not betray his master's trust. He would protect the ring if it would cost him his life.

"Second…" Voldemort clapped his hands and Macnair and Rowle dragged a girl to the front by her chains. She looked half-dead from her appearance, dressed in rags that hung off her scrawny form. Her hair was matted and wild, and she was covered in dirt and grime. Dried blood could also be seen staining her clothes. "…a Mudblood slave for your amusement."

Harry was speechless. "Thank you, Master, for your generosity."

"You may do to her as you see fit."

Harry nodded, eyeing the girl maliciously. Already, his mind was coming up with multiple ways to torment her, making her suffer and scream. As they all gathered into the dining room to eat, Harry passed the girl, who could barely support her own weight, being so weakened from starvation and multiple beatings before she arrived there. "Get up, Mudblood." When she couldn't stand, he took a handful of her hair and dragged her to her knees. "Let me make this clear for you, Mudblood. Whatever I tell you to do, you do it. If I tell you to place your hand in the fireplace, you do it."

The girl's face was twisted in pain from the pressure on her hair, and tears ran down her cheeks as she nodded vigorously.

Harry snarled, "You will address me with proper respect. You will call me 'Master.' Understood?" He yanked her hair fiercely, causing her to yelp in pain.

"Yes, Master!" she whimpered.

Harry dragged her into the dining room and threw her onto the floor by his feet. He kicked her in the chest, grinning sadistically before seating himself to eat. Hearing his slave's stomach growling, he took a chicken leg and waved it in front of her face. Her eyes followed it hungrily, and saliva could be seen trickling down from her lips. "If you want it so badly, Mudblood, get it."

She lunged for it. However, he yanked it out of her reach and then kicked her right in her face. She immediately collapsed, clutching a bloody nose.

The entire table roared with laughter. Voldemort smiled. "You certainly know how to control a slave."

Harry chuckled. "Pure punishment and humiliation." After dinner, he took a cup of water and poured it onto the stone floor. "Slave, clean this up…with your tongue. Wipe the floor afterwards."

The girl bowed her head, her self-worth completely gone. Obediently, she lowered herself onto her hands and knees and began lapping up the spilled water. The Death Eaters laughed again and their amusement only heightened when Harry kicked her between the legs as hard as he can. The girl gasped in pain and curled up on the floor, whimpering.

Voldemort chuckled. Then he turned to the table. "The celebration is over. My servant would want to spend quality time with his plaything." And with that, the assembly dispersed. When Voldemort was about to leave, he said to Harry, "She is for your pleasure. Do as you will with her."

Harry bowed. "As you wish, Master." When his master Apparated, Harry turned to his slave, still curled up on the floor. "Get up, you filthy Mudblood. You're in no condition to be in this house." He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her into the bathroom, where there was a pool-sized bathtub. Ripping off her rags, he then turned on the water. He snorted scornfully when she tried to cover up her private parts. "No need to fear, Mudblood. Those areas are the last I want to look at. Get in."

She was about to step in but the minute she felt the temperature, she jumped back out, shivering. Harry had turned on only the cold water.

Snarling, Harry pushed her in. He grinned when she screamed. "Clean up, slave. You're too dirty to be in this house." He watched her bathe with sadistic enjoyment as she was in obvious pain from scrubbing in cold water. She was also embarrassed and humiliated by the fact that she was completely exposed for his eyes to see. It was as if she was nothing but an animal.

"Get out."

Her cheeks burning, she obeyed, and he threw her a towel and a set of robes.

"I want you in my bedroom in five minutes. First room on the right, second floor. Wait there." Harry marched out of the bathroom to lock up the unicorn colt in the stables, which had been empty ever since he moved in. Returning to his bedroom, he found his slave there, kneeling on the floor, her eyes downcast. Harry contemplated her. She was really pretty. Her hair was somewhat bushy but it suited her. Her soft brown eyes were also very pretty, especially when they looked at him in fear. She was dangerously thin, no doubt from eating so little under the care of the Death Eaters.

The longer he watched her, the more nervous she became. Soon, she was trembling uncontrollably from fear and nervousness.

Harry finally placed a finger under her chin, lifting it. "Tell me, Mudblood. What is your name?"

She seemed to debate telling him before she finally answered slowly. "Hermione Granger, Master."

Harry struck her, shocking her, before he said, "You don't have a name here. You are a slave. You will answer to 'Mudblood,' 'slave,' 'girl,' 'bitch,' 'whore,' or whatever name I fancied calling you at the moment."

She lowered her head. "Yes, Master," she said softly, feeling completely humiliated. She winced when she felt Harry's hands put a dog collar around her neck. Clasping a chain to the loop on the collar, Harry chained Hermione to the foot of his bed. He tied her wrists behind her back and smirked. "Have a good night."

That night, Hermione tried to curl up as much as she can for warmth. Just three weeks ago, she had been living comfortably with her parents…until these Death Eaters came and killed her entire family, keeping her alive only as a plaything. As she remembered her parents, tears welled up in her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. Will she ever experience kindness again? No, probably not.

The next day, Hermione woke up from a hard kick to her side.

"Get up, Slave!" Harry growled, unclasping her chain and untying her wrists.

She hurried to her feet only to be smacked in the face. She fell to the floor again.

"I told you to get up, Mudblood!" Harry struck her again as soon as she got to her feet. He loved her pain. It was so amusing to see such a pathetic beast being beaten down. "Get up!" The process repeated several more times before Hermione simply stayed down, shaking. "What's wrong, you stupid dog?" he taunted. "Your master told you to get up. Or perhaps you're begging for punishment."

"Why…why are you doing this?" she asked in a quiet, shaking voice. "I'm a human being, too…" The next thing she knew, Harry had grabbed her wrists and yanked her up, pinning her against the wall.

He grabbed her face and snarled, "You are a Mudblood, understood? Human being? You're less than a dog. I can kill you right here, right now if I so please."

Tears ran down her face as she struggled.

"Pathetic," Harry said, smirking. He threw her into the bed post and said, his eyes filled with mad excitement, "I will be having a lot of fun with you today, Mudblood." He pushed her to the floor and ripped off her robe, exposing her back. He held her down with his knees and pulled out a knife. "See this, slave? It's made purely for torture. The poison at the tip causes the victim so much pain that normally he would just fall unconscious from the torture. However…" He took out a vial and pressed it to her lips. "Drink." When she tried to pull away, he simply yanked her head back and poured the liquid down her throat. She choked but the potion went down. "Now we can begin."

Harry pressed the knife to her back and slid it downwards.

Hermione sucked in her breath. She only felt the cold knife. But she can feel it. The pain was about to come.

Harry continued on, writing the word _Mudblood _into her left shoulder. Then he stopped.

Was that all? Suddenly, Hermione let out the most unearthly scream. She herself was shocked that such a scream had come from her own throat. The pain…her shoulder felt as though it was on fire. Her muscles were going into spasms. She couldn't even breathe. She bit her lower lip until she drew blood. Sobbing as the pain subsided, she laid her head on the cold floor, tears spilling onto the stonework.

Harry chuckled. "What a songbird. Your screams are music to my ears."

"Please…" she whimpered. "…no more…"

"We've only started, Mudblood. I suggest you save your breath for the screaming," Harry said sadistically. With that, Hermione received several more profane words and phrases written into her back that morning.

…

Three months have passed. The summer was slowly passing into autumn. Throughout that time period, Hermione underwent numerous tortures and humiliations. The Manor was often filled with her screams. One day, when Harry was out at a Death Eater meeting, she went outside for some fresh air. She knew she couldn't escape. He had always found her before, and the punishments were…in one word, horrible. The few times that he was gone…they were her only resting periods. She had contemplated suicide many times, but she was too cowardly to do such a thing.

Hermione walked around the Manor until she reached the stables. What could Harry possibly keep in them? He seemed too cruel to be raising any animal. She walked inside. Would she be punished? She sighed. Not that it makes a difference. She was already living in constant fear and suffering when he was around. "Hello?" She gasped when a young unicorn colt stuck its head out of one of the stalls. She approached it and laid her hand on its nose. "Did he mistreat you, too?" she asked gently.

However, the colt seemed healthy and strong. In fact, it seemed well-cared for. Not a scratch was on it. Its eyes were lively and bright. It nudged her a bit, almost playfully.

Hermione was confused. How could such a cruel boy raise such a beautiful creature? Unless he was raising it to be a trophy? Maybe to kill it later on? But if he was doing that, the colt would never have grown up this perfectly, would it? She petted its jaw. "I don't understand him. Why is he so cruel to me? I know my parents aren't magical, but…I can't help that. I'm a human being, too."

The unicorn nudged her again, and for the first time in months, Hermione smiled. "You're just like me, aren't you? You lost your parents, too." She ran her hand through its mane.

Suddenly, she heard the stable door open. Her eyes widened in fear, and her body trembled and shook. She fell to her knees. "W-welcome back, Master," she said in a shaking voice.

"You…" Harry's voice was dangerous as he grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out of the stables. "Who do you think you are to be worthy of touching a unicorn?" He threw her onto the ground, and her hand got cut on a sharp rock.

She had learned to fear him. She could only anticipate pain and suffering from here.

"_Crucio!_" Harry snarled.

Blinding pain coursed through her body, and Hermione screamed. "I'm sorry, Master!" she cried.

"I can't hear you!" Harry cried gleefully, his eyes mad with glee at her suffering. "Perhaps you should scream LOUDER!"

For a half an hour, the grounds were filled with the sounds of Hermione's screaming.

…

Hermione had lost track of how long she had been as Harry's slave. She could barely remember her parents or her old life anymore. She could only anticipate pain and suffering as each day begins. However, one day, she discovered something interesting while Harry was away on a two-day trip.

It was Harry's Pensieve, the one that he received for his birthday from the Carrows. Not knowing what it was, she leaned over and the next thing she knew, she was sucked into its depths.

Hermione looked around. It was unfamiliar to her. Then she saw a familiar figure. She trembled and was about to kneel down before she realized that the child was not the Harry that she was familiar with. It was a younger version of him – barely five years old. "Master?" she asked tentatively.

However, the child ignored her, as if he couldn't even hear her. He then smiled.

In all her time at the manor, Hermione had never seen Harry smile genuinely – he only ever had a sadistic, maniacal grin or a smirk on his face. However, this younger version of him…his smile was beautiful. His green eyes, so cruel in his teenage years, were kind and bright. He ran over to something and ran back to a cloaked figure. "Master, look at what I found!"

Hermione's heart nearly melted when she saw what was in his hand. It was a little bird, whose wing was broken.

"We should fix its wing, Master, so that it can fly again!" Harry said cheerfully. "Its wing is at an odd angle, so if we could numb it and set it back into place…"

"Kill it."

Hermione gasped. Harry's face fell in shock. "But…"

"I order you to kill it."

"But why?"

"Because it feels good to kill, especially when it could save you the pain of trying to revive it."

"Really, Master?"

"Yes."

Harry stared at the bird in his hand. "How do I kill it?"

"Twist its neck."

Harry carefully grabbed it by the head and twisted it. There was a snap, and the bird was dead. Harry stared at the limp creature in his hand, almost as if in shock at what he had done. "Master, I don't feel very good." He looked as though he was about to throw up.

"It takes many tries before you can become good at it. Then it will feel good."

"Yes, Master."

Hermione felt sick. How could one do such a thing to a child? She realized it by now – these were Harry's memories. She pulled herself out of the Pensieve and sat down on the ground. So that was why Harry was so cruel…But his treatment of the unicorn…could it be that his gentleness, his kind nature, was not completely eradicated? But why was he only kind to animals? Hermione's bright mind put two and two together – it was his master. The focus of his "training" on torture and killing was on human beings, not animals. No doubt Harry was still fond of animals.

…

Hermione knew that if Harry found out that Hermione had seen what she had seen, he would kill her – no doubt about it. However, ever since then, she had a new perspective on the boy she addressed as "Master." Even under the pain of torture, she still hoped that somewhere in there, Harry's heart was still alive.

One day, she saw Harry arrived home from his week-long mission. As always, with fear, she knelt down, anticipating pain and torment. However, she noticed that Harry was walking strangely – with a limp. She looked up, and her eyes widened in shock. She knew her master was a powerful wizard and he had never returned with injuries before.

This time was different. Harry's wand was limp in his hand. His left leg was clearly broken. His wand arm was clutching his bloody abdomen, and his other arm was using a makeshift crutch as a support.

"Master…" she whispered.

With dangerous speed, he whipped his wand at her. "Keep your distance, slave. I may be injured, but you are still a Mudblood." However, his face twisted in pain at the sudden movement. Panting slightly, he collapsed onto an armchair and tried to cast a healing spell. However, the pain was too much, and his hand was shaking too much for him to be able to focus onto the wounds to heal them.

Hermione watched him, still with fear. However, a new emotion emerged within her – compassion. Even though he was her tormentor for months…his pain, his vulnerability at the moment…it was painful to watch his weak attempts to heal himself. Finally he cursed and gave up.

Cautiously, Hermione approached him and knelt down, her forehead to the floor. "Please, Master, let me help you."

"And let you use my wand? I think not!" Harry snarled.

"I will do it the nonmagical way, Master," Hermione said, trembling. She anticipated that at any moment, he would curse her and torture her. He didn't. She looked up.

Harry was watching her suspiciously. "Go away," he growled. "I will deal with you when I heal."

Hermione looked down at his broken leg. Should she risk it? She couldn't get the image of Harry's kind eyes out of her mind – the ones she saw in the Pensieve. They were so beautiful…He might not be a lost cause. "Please, Master, allow me to…"

He pointed his wand at her. "Go away. Now," he hissed. "Or you will receive a far worse punishment than what I had in mind."

_Please let him have some human left in him… _Hermione swallowed. "I will take the worse punishment, Master." Dread filled her. It was such a terrible risk.

"What?" he asked in surprise. His aggressiveness had been placed on the back burner.

"I will take the worse punishment, Master, if it meant that you will…heal." _Both physically and spiritually as well… _Hermione rose from the floor and cautiously approached Harry. She flinched when he pointed his wand at her.

"I said stay away. What is your motive for helping me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Please, Master…" she begged. _Please don't curse me…_

Harry glared before placing his wand on a table next to him. "Fine. But you will be punished harshly for this. I hate being touched by Mudbloods."

Hermione bit her lip. Was the child in the Pensieve really gone forever? She knelt down in front of him and began to part his robes. The gaping wound was still oozing blood and that would need to be taken care of first. She ripped away the cloth that surrounded his wound and winced at the deepness of the wound. "Master, I need you to lie down…"

Harry only glared.

Hermione carefully placed her arm underneath his legs so as to carefully move the injured leg with as little pain as possible.

Harry winced. However, he cooperated and tried to move his body down onto the floor. It was painful and time-consuming, but eventually, he was lying on the floor. For once, he regretted that he didn't have healing potions on hand. He didn't want any Death Eater to see him so weak, so Snape was out of the question, too.

"It's really deep, Master. I'll need to…sew it together."

"What?" Harry gawked.

"I will be painful, but it will allow your wound to heal, Master."

Harry jerked his head away. "Fine. Do what you must. There's a needle and thread in the cabinet."

"Are there any bandages, Master?"

"No," he snorted.

Hermione stood up, got the thread and needle, and returned to his side, ready to sew his wound back together. "It will be painful, Master." He didn't respond, so she carefully began to weave the needle in and out of his wound, slowly closing it.

Harry's muscles were all tense, and he was holding in his breath.

When she was done, Hermione wiped the wound clean with a rag and water since they didn't have antiseptic. Noticing that it was still bleeding somewhat, she ripped off a long piece of her robes and began to wrap it around the wound. "It's not much, Master, but…" she trailed off. Harry was giving her a strange look. It was calculating.

She turned away, directing her focus onto his broken leg. She stood up to look for something to set it, and returned with a metal board. Again, she ripped off a piece of her robes and began to set his leg right. It was a good thing that it wasn't bending in a different direction, or else she would have had to bend it back into position… "It's finished, Master." Hermione knelt in front of him, waiting for orders.

There was a silence before Harry turned away. "No food for two days."

Hermione looked up, shocked. That was a really light punishment. "Master?"

"That's your punishment. Now leave before I change my mind!" he snarled.

Hermione hurried away.

…

Ever since that day, life changed for Hermione. The changes were slow, but they were noticeable. As Harry regained his strength, he eventually used magic to heal himself. However, every time he was about to torture her by routine, he suddenly changed his mind – as if by an invisible force stopping him. He continued to humiliate her at every opportunity, but even the humiliations lightened over time.

One night, Hermione dreamed about her parents and woke up screaming in cold sweat and tears. Disoriented, she forgot where she was as she gasped for breath. Suddenly the lights flared on and Hermione found herself at the feet of a very irritated Harry. Remembering where she was again, she shook in fear. He was going to punish her harshly for this.

"You filthy Mudblood," he snarled. "You dare…"

"I'm sorry, Master!" she whimpered. "Please forgive me!"

He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet. "Waking me up in the middle of the night, you should know, is a very terrible offense." He struck her.

"Please, Master, I had a terrible dream! Forgive me!" she cried. She knew he was going to torture her with the Cruciatus Curse at the very least. She would be lucky if he didn't use his knife on her, too.

Harry's eyes almost softened if that was possible. He had nightmares before, where he would wake up screaming. His nightmares, which he rarely had anymore, were strange. They always ended up with a woman screaming in a flash of green light. It was strange in the fact that such a scene usually didn't bother him when he was awake.

Hermione's fears were never carried out.

Harry let go of her hair and growled, "Shut up and go to sleep!" With that, the lights dimmed, and he sighed inwardly. He must be getting soft.

Hermione was shocked. No promise of punishment in the morning? That was new. Similar incidents began to happen more frequently. Hermione's "offenses" more frequently went unpunished except for the usual slap or rough handling.

Another strange incident happened when she walked in on Harry reading a book in the living room. She stared at the book with a thirsty look in her eyes. It had been so long since she read. Summoning all her courage, she said, her cautious voice almost a whisper, "Master?"

Harry glanced at her. "What is it, slave?"

Hermione lowered her gaze. "Can I…perhaps hear you read out loud, Master?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the bizarre request. "Why?"

"I love reading, Master, and it's been a while since I've read. I was hoping that maybe I could have a taste of that joy again," Hermione said. When Harry didn't respond, she swallowed nervously. Was he angry?

Harry seriously considered it. He loved books, and she was the first person he met who also loved to read. The other Death Eaters, as far as he was concerned, were idiotic low lives who didn't know how to read even if their lives depended on it.

"_This world  
>The town was so quiet there was no one about<br>Just a couple of kids who were starting to shout  
>Hey there mister can you give us a penny<br>No said the man I haven't got any_

Were starving and cold the children did cry  
>The man himself hungry did turn a blind eye<br>He had nothing to give them what could he do  
>Just tell his story to all of you…"(1)<p>

Hermione widened her eyes. He actually complied? She looked up to see his expression, but it was blank. Slowly, cautiously, she walked over to where he was sitting and sat down at his feet. He…he had a lovely voice when he wasn't yelling or screaming or taunting or growling or snarling. When he read out loud, his voice flowed. It was almost like honey for the ears – gentle and sweet. If he could keep his voice like so, Hermione would say that it really wasn't hard to believe that he was once the child in the Pensieve.

…

Harry looked out his window. Hermione was walking around on the grounds again. She always did when he was away or when he didn't want her around. She was a strange one. Harry absentmindedly touched his abdomen, where she had so carefully stitched together several weeks ago. She was crazy for doing that – that he had to admit. However, the sight of her nowadays – it planted a different emotion in his chest. Not anger, hatred, or malice.

It was a warm feeling. What was this feeling? It was giving him a headache just thinking about it. He was about to go into the library for some quiet time when he remembered what she said about loving to read. He paused his hand on the handle of the door into the library. She was the first person to ever share his love of books. Even though the feelings he had towards her were foreign, he didn't dislike them. They actually felt strangely good. He wouldn't mind following what they tell him to do.

Harry walked outside to where Hermione was sitting on a flat rock. "Slave."

Hermione immediately dropped to her knees at the sound of his voice. "Yes, Master?"

"Follow me." With that, he turned on his heels and walked back to the manor.

Hermione stood up and ran after him. Her heart was beating fast. Did she do something wrong? Was he going to punish her? But he hadn't punished her in such a long time, why now? She followed him through unfamiliar halls. Finally they reached two large, wooden doors.

Harry opened the doors and went inside, gesturing for her to follow.

When she entered, she gasped in shock. There were shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. There were even stairs leading up to a second story of shelves and books. There were comfortable armchairs and polished wooden tables. With the velvet curtains pulled back, large windows shed light on the entire library. "Master?" she asked tentatively.

"You can come in here whenever you want to read something." Harry raised his eyebrows when Hermione's face split into a laughing smile. His heart warmed. Such a wonderful feeling he felt. Could such a simple action really reap such a reward? But what did he do exactly that made him feel that way?

"Thank you so much, Master. With all my heart, I thank you!" Hermione knelt down and kissed his robes before running to the shelves to pull out a book to read.

For the first time in years, Harry smiled a genuine smile. He knew now – the wonderful feeling he felt was happiness. He was happy because he made her happy. She had such a beautiful smile. What a lovely creature when she wasn't cowering in fear. He never again hit her.

...

Hermione followed Harry to the stables. She was confused as to why he was taking her back there, where many months ago, he had punished her so harshly for going into.

Harry opened one of the stall doors and gently pulled out the unicorn colt. "This one will grow up into a very beautiful creature." He turned to her and smiled. "I'm leaving him in your care."

Hermione widened her eyes in surprise. She got to take care of the unicorn colt? "Master?"

"Take good care of it or you'll be punished. Very harshly in fact." Even though his words were threats, his tone held no malice. In fact, his voice was almost gentle.

Hermione blinked. Then, she knelt down. "Thank you, Master. You're too kind."

Harry turned away. For some strange reason, he felt awkward when Hermione degraded herself like that now, even though she had been doing that ever since the beginning when they first met. And the word "Master" felt foreign on his ears. And so did the word "slave" or "Mudblood" on his lips. He didn't like them.

...

Harry loved surprising Hermione now. He often observed her, and he discovered a lot about her that way. One of the things he found out that she simply adored was music, particularly piano music. "Follow me," he told her one day when she was reading in the library. "I have something to show you."

Hermione put down her book obediently and followed him to an unfamiliar room.

He pulled the covers off a piano and gave her a smile, knowing her reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

Hermione widened her eyes in pleasant surprise. "Master?" Her voice was quiet. Why was he doing all this for her? It was a complete contrast of who he was only several weeks ago.

Harry sat down on the bench and, seeing Hermione about to sit on the floor, stopped her. "It's not appropriate for the one I'm playing for to sit on the floor," he said softly.

Hermione blinked. Then understanding his meaning, she got off the floor and sat down next to him. "What song are you going to play, Master?"

"You'll see. It's rather simple, but..." He trailed off. With that, he began to play.

The notes were very familiar to Hermione, whose eyes lit up. Why did Harry choose to play this song?

_"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound..._" Harry's voice was clear._ "That saved a wretch like me.__ I once was lost but now am found,__ Was blind, but now I see."_

Hermione tentatively laid her head on his shoulder, no longer fearing her master. She loved his voice, so gentle and soft. It was the voice...of an angel.

_"T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear._  
><em> And Grace, my fears relieved.<em>  
><em> How precious did that Grace appear<em>  
><em> The hour I first believed.<em>

_Through many dangers, toils and snares_  
><em> I have already come;<em>  
><em> 'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far<em>  
><em> and Grace will lead me home."<em>

The music trailed off, and Harry glanced at Hermione. Then, slowly, he leaned his head against hers. "That was for you," he said quietly. "You are an amazing grace." How lucky he was to have her in his life. Such a pure, innocent creature.

...

Hermione laid her head against Harry's chest. He was lying against a tree, a book propped open in his hand. His chest was so warm, and she could hear his heart beats. Such a strong heart...

"I've read to you before," Harry said, his breath tickling her ear. "This time, I want to hear your voice. It's very beautiful."

"Yes, Master," she said, a shade of pink appearing on her pale cheeks. "_O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet_..."

"That's beautiful," Harry whispered when she paused.

She smiled.

"Of course, it's not as beautiful as the one whose lips the words come from."

Hermione's eyes widened. His words were so quiet that she wasn't sure if she had actually heard what she heard.

...

Hermione followed Harry into the surrounding forest. She no longer feared punishment by his hand. Now, she was simply curious as to where he was leading her.

Harry was pulling the unicorn colt along with him. Every so often, he would even stop to offer Hermione a hand to help her over tree roots and the like. A third party would never have guessed that they were master and slave. When they reached a clearing, Harry stopped and said, "Do you fancy a ride on a unicorn?"

Hermione smiled. "I would love to." To her surprise, Harry easily picked her up and gracefully set her on the unicorn. It neighed a bit, shaking its head.

Harry led the unicorn farther away from the manor. "I want to hear your thoughts."

Hermione widened her eyes. No one had cared about her thoughts in such a long time. "What do you want to hear about, Master?"

"Anything. What are your thoughts on the unicorn?"

"Well...I think it should be set free. Unicorns aren't meant to be held in captivity." Hermione wondered what his reaction to that would be. No doubt, he valued the unicorn very much.

Harry stopped. But then, shaking his head, he continued on. "What are your thoughts on your life now at the manor?" Seeing her hesitate, he urged, "Please...tell me the truth." It was the first time he said the word "please" to her.

Hermione hesitated but answered as truthfully as she can. "Now that you're...kinder to me, it's much better. I feel safe, and I'm really glad that I was given to you rather than having to stay with the Death Eaters." When she said the word "given," her voice was almost bitter. "But...I feel like a caged bird. I want to be free."

Harry was quiet. Then he stopped by a lake. He helped her off the unicorn and then took the reigns off. His voice was soft, almost sad. "You're free. Find your own kind. Go."

Hermione stared. Was he really letting go of the colt - something so precious to him? He was letting it go free?

The unicorn nudged his shoulder in thanks before nuzzling Hermione and galloping off into the forest.

…

"Has your slave been serving you well?" Voldemort asked.

Harry had not told him about the new feelings he had been having towards Hermione, and quite frankly, his instincts told him not to. "Yes, she has been, Master."

"Good. I would like her to serve at a banquet next week. Afterwards, she will be the entertainment for my guests."

Harry felt as though a large stone was dropped into his stomach. He knew what the "entertainment" will include. However, he simply said, "Yes, Master."

…

Hermione trembled. She was going to be entertainment for Death Eaters? How was she going to survive the night? She couldn't look at Harry. She felt almost betrayed. The last few weeks, she had felt somewhat safe around him. He no longer hit her nor did he yelled or screamed at her. Instead, he simply watched her as she went about her day.

Guessing how she must be feeling, Harry pulled her to her feet by her hands, surprising her by his gentleness. "When you serve, always start with the Dark Lord. You can't miss him. Then continue in whichever direction I'm on. Be careful not to hit anyone with the tray." Harry continued on, "Always serve the soup first and then the salad. It may or may not be different in your world, but that's how it is in the Wizarding world. Then serve the entrée – fish first, then the meat and vegetables. Then the bread, cheese, and fruit tray. Last is the dessert."

"Thank you, Master."

Harry turned to her and, seeing her smile, nodded. "Just don't forget. As for the entertainment…" He turned away. "…I will be the one to give it." He paused before saying softly, "You will be tortured."

Hermione lowered her eyes. "I'd rather you do it than anyone else, Master."

"You know I can't lighten the torture on you."

"But you're familiar, Master. And I know…inside, you care." It was bold, but she was no longer afraid of this person, whom she addressed as "Master." "You're not like the other Death Eaters. And…I trust you."

Harry closed his eyes. "Stop calling me that. I'm not your master. Never was; never will." With those words, the entire mask of their relationship fell apart. They were no longer master and slave.

Hermione widened her eyes in shock.

Harry came closer to her and reached around her neck. He carefully undid the dog collar around her neck and threw it onto the floor. "You're a human being, just like me." He turned his back to her. "You're free. You can leave if you want." His eyes burned. He was going to miss her. She had taught him how to be human, and he was forever grateful.

Hermione was still in shock. Then, without warning, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you…Harry. But did you honestly think I was going to leave you to answer to Voldemort's wrath?"

…

Harry dragged Hermione roughly onto the stage by her hair. "Are you ready?" he breathed into her ear.

"Yes." She swallowed and closed her eyes. "I trust you."

Harry grabbed her wrists and tied them above her head. He ripped away her robes in the back, exposing her back to the Death Eaters, who jeered and laughed, eager for pain. Harry grabbed a knife and held it in front of Hermione's face. "Does this look familiar to you, Mudblood?" he taunted, although it didn't reach his eyes.

Hermione's lips trembled as she looked away. "Yes, Master," she said, her voice shaking.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as she shook in fear. He turned to the Death Eaters and said, "This knife was dipped in a poison that I myself came up with." He turned around and began to draw on Hermione's back.

"I trust you…I trust you…I trust you…" she whispered the same words over and over again like a mantra. Then, as the burst of pain came, she screamed.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything else but her screaming.

When the pain subsided, Hermione's head fell forward, tears running down her face. "I trust you…" The Death Eaters roared in laughter at her pain and demanded more.

Harry widened his eyes at her words. She still trusted him… "Forgive me," he whispered into her ear and then continued to draw on her back. At the next burst of pain, Hermione fell unconscious…Because Harry did not give her the potion that would have kept her awake during the torture.

…

Hermione woke up late at night on a soft bed. Feeling hot, she got out of bed and opened the glass doors out into the balcony. Sucking in deep breaths, she tried to recall what had happened during the torture. She had fallen unconscious, but that shouldn't have happened...unless Harry "forgot" to give her the potion...

She leaned against the balcony railings, allowing the wind to play with her hair. Within seconds, she felt arms on either side of her. By instinct, she was about to kneel, but Harry kept her standing. "Hey, Harry…" She tentatively leaned back against his chest. So strong… Even though he had been her tormentor for the first few months of her stay at the manor, he was also her first friend in the Wizarding world. She felt safe around him now, even if her body reacted differently due to instinct.

"You're awake," he whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Safe."

Harry was quiet. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Don't be. You did what you had to." Hermione turned half-way to look at him. "Thank you for being my friend in this…hell."

Harry widened his eyes. Then his eyes softened and he smiled sadly. "A terrible friend."

"No." She smiled. "A good friend who's forced to make decisions in terrible situations." Her eyes locked onto his, and slowly, their lips met. It was a gentle, light kiss. When they pulled away, Hermione whispered, "Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thank you…Hermione." It was the first time he called her by her name. And it felt just right on his tongue. Then a bright smile lit his face, and he lifted her up in his arms, grinning when she let out a squeal of surprise and delight. "What do you say, Hermione, that we run away like rebels?" he asked playfully as he twirled her around. "Run until we could run no more!"

"Yeah, and we'll build our own world!" Hermione laughed. "You'll be the prince, I'll be the princess, and the entire world will be our kingdom. Our love will be our castle, and everything will be perfect."

"Yeah…perfect. You're wonderful, Hermione. Don't ever forget that," Harry said gently. He kissed her forehead, and then carried her back into the room. "Get some rest, Hermione. You've been through a lot."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Where are you going?"

"I have some work to do." Harry kissed her hand and then left.

…

"He looks just like James Potter!"

"No difference!"

"Except for his eyes…"

Harry ignored them all and approached Dumbledore, who sat at the high table. Of course, Hogwarts was still the safest place from Voldemort. Dumbledore locked eyes with him, and he allowed the Legilimens to search through his mind. Wordlessly, he took off the ring that Voldemort gave him for his birthday and handed it to Dumbledore.

After studying it, Dumbledore looked up and smiled. "Has anyone ever told you that you are the spitting image of your father? Except for your eyes…you have your mother's eyes."

"No. No one has ever told me that."

"Welcome back, Harry Potter."

…

Ever since then, Harry worked to bring Voldemort's reign to an end. After destroying his Horcruxes, the final face off took place at Hogwarts. Harry faced Voldemort, and all those involved in the war watched them.

"How dare you rise against your master!" Voldemort hissed.

Harry didn't answer. His eyes never wavered. He sent another curse at Voldemort.

Voldemort's eyes locked in on Harry's and they widened. "It was because of that Mudblood. It can't be..."

Harry again didn't answer. However, he was so focused on Voldemort that he did not notice Bellatrix's movements in the crowd.

"Stop right there, Boy!" she screamed as Harry was about to send another spell at the Dark Lord. Her arm was around Hermione's neck, and a knife was pressed against her throat, enough to draw blood.

Harry froze.

Bellatrix laughed. "You care about this Mudblood that much that you're willing to risk your life for her?"

"Harry, don't..." Hermione whimpered.

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed. He turned to Harry, who lowered his wand. "You're a fool, Harry Potter. How much does this slave mean to you? What can she do for you or offer you that I can't?" He grabbed Hermione's face roughly. "She's a Mudblood!" He pulled her out of Bellatrix's grasp and held her up in front of him, facing Harry.

Harry widened his eyes. "Wait, stop...please don't..."

"You move, and she dies," Bellatrix cackled.

Voldemort's face was close to Hermione's. "What's so special about you, Mudblood? What did you do to win him? He had killed many Mudbloods before. What makes you any different? Did you give him a love potion? Answer me!" He spat on her face.

Harry trembled. "Please stop..."

"Silence!" Voldemort turned back to Hermione, whose eyes were closed. "Or perhaps he truly fancies you? How would he feel if say, someone tortures you right in front of him?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

Voldemort chuckled. Then he hissed, "_Crucio!" _

With all her willpower, Hermione shut her mouth. No sound escaped her.

Voldemort growled. "Scream! Scream, I say!" He placed more power into the curse, but Hermione's lips remained persistently closed.

"Stop!"

Voldemort stopped and turned to Harry, who was on his hands and knees.

"Please...I'll do anything. I give up," Harry pleaded. "I surrender completely. Torture me, kill me...please let her go."

Voldemort's eyes danced. Then he threw Hermione at Harry. "Then why don't you two die TOGETHER! Avada Kedavra!"

Harry saw the green light coming towards them and without hesitation, he placed himself between it and Hermione. Seeing her shocked expression, he smiled gently. The next moment, he fell limply into her arms, his smile still on his face. Such great love, that the master would die for the slave. How could such things happen?

...

Harry opened his eyes. Where was he? He looked around him. He was in some sort of train station.

"My son, my...love."

Harry turned around to come face to face with a beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes...his eyes. "Mom?" he asked tentatively.

She smiled and nodded. Then slowly, she approached him and pulled him to her bosom. "The monster inside you is gone. I'm proud of the man you have become."

Harry laid his head against his mother's chest. Such peace...

"Mr. Potter."

Harry opened an eye without leaving his mother. "Yes?"

Mr. Granger approached him. "My daughter - she's everything to me. Please take care of her. I trust you."

Harry smiled. "She's everything to me, too."

...

Silent tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks. Harry...her love...her friend...

"My foolish servant may have taken the curse for you, but it makes no difference." Voldemort stood in front of her, his wand pointed at her face. "You'll die anyway. Avada Kedavra."

Hermione's eyes widened. A shimmering shield erupted in front of her. The Killing Curse was immediately deflected back at Voldemort, who could only let out a cry of shock before he was...gone. "What happened?" she whispered. She gasped when Harry slowly got to his feet. "Harry!"

Harry turned to where Voldemort had been and said, "He was careless. Who would've thought that sacrificial love would provide such a powerful protection?" He smiled and helped Hermione to her feet.

...

Finally, three years after their first kiss, Voldemort was dead.

"You don't feel anything for him, Harry?" Hermione asked as the duo took a walk around the Black Lake.

"I respected him once, but he wasn't exactly a fatherly figure, you know. No, I never loved him, at least not truly. I felt loyalty and duty towards him, but never love." Harry suddenly stopped. "Dumbledore said that this was where my dad proposed to my mom."

Hermione's eyes widened at the implications of his words.

Harry got down on one knee and opened a small velvet box. Inside was a single ring. His eyes were full of affection and love as he said, "Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"

**Please Review! Are there plot holes? Should I expand the story? Do say!**

**By the way, the excerpt that Harry was reading out loud was just a random poem that I saw online. **


End file.
